David Dalglish - Blood Of Gods

Yet for all the men’s wonder at the display, it was just that-a display. With Karak in his current condition, it was up to Velixar to create the foundation of what was to come. . and he had no idea how.

“The soul is limitless. With our help, you will become as mighty as the gods themselves.”

This best be true, he thought.

Slipping his free hand beneath his cloak, he grasped his pendant, felt it throb in his fingers. With one hand in Karak’s and one clutching Karak’s gift, he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth radiate off his flesh. The connection between himself and Karak’s internal well was made stronger. All sound, but for the thrum of his heart in his ears, washed away. Once more he ventured through the empty, ethereal plain of creation, becoming a pinprick of light barely perceptible among the stars. The pendant funneled him toward the blazing sun that was Karak; only this time that sun was wreathed in shadow. Portions of its surface appeared frozen and cracked, the darkness slowly spreading toward the center, the very core of the deity himself.

Yet when he made contact with the sun, it instantly brightened, the chinks sealing shut, the inferno reignited. With the link made stronger by his physical contact with Karak, energy pulsed into him in greater quantities than it had before. He felt himself growing larger, more powerful, until he became a small star himself.

I am infinite! I am one with everything!

And still he should not stop, for Karak’s power would not be enough. The words of the demon from the void came back to him, and he focused his energy deeper within Karak’s soul, seeking connection after connection. The universe created the gods; the gods are the universe. He soared down hundreds of individual threads, from Karak to the supreme god that spawned him, Kaurthulos, the one made many, and then to the multitudes that came before. He bathed in the gases of the cosmos, waded through the glowing particles of a dying sun. His essence swelled and swelled, until it seemed he would absorb it all, Dezrel and beyond.

Then pain struck him behind the eyes, making him scream. He fell to his knees, releasing Karak’s hand in the process. His whole body quaked, and smoke rose from his chest. He opened his eyes, and his vision was boiling in a red haze. When he lifted his hands and stared at them, he saw his flesh split, tiny fractures that wound along his palms, releasing puffs of shadow and licks of purple flame. The ground on which he knelt sizzled, the rocks melting and becoming magma that flowed around his knees. He felt close to bursting.

The mind restricts you, for the soul is limitless, he tried to tell himself, but the scope of what he experienced overwhelmed him. He was a god and a man, all at once, and the contradiction threatened to tear him to pieces.

“Do it now,” he heard Karak say from somewhere behind him, and he swore he heard awe in the deity’s voice.

Velixar finally understood. He rose to his feet and stepped closer to the cliff’s edge. There were no more words of magic, no more chanting. All he needed was the power of creation that boiled within his swelling body. He held out his hands, focusing on the red, rocky soil. In his mind he pictured the land extending across the deep chasm. The light from his eyes outshone even the sun above, and the whole cliff began to rumble. Boulders a thousand years old shuddered and split, the dense core of them extending outward in snaking tendrils. Reddish sediment from the river that raged below climbed up the side of the cliff, attaching to the narrow protrusions, combining them, giving them solidity and form. Velixar felt the power flow out of him in red-hot waves, making the air in front of him hazy. The stone melted and cooled, melted and cooled, thickening as it grew. He then gazed across the river, to the other side of the cliff, and amazingly it seemed he could see two places at once. He watched the ledge before him expand on itself, and at the same time observed the process beginning anew on the other side.

Soon there were two spires pointed outward from either cliff, racing toward each other. Velixar twirled his hands, and a spiral of shadow appeared between the two rapidly growing sections, pulling them, stretching them. The particles in the air itself were condensed, adding to the thickness of the stone and sediment augmenting its sides, its surface, flattening it. The two pointed spires then touched, became liquid, and melded like one snake swallowing another. The whole of the new structure bulged, widened, and then bulged again. Velixar clapped his hands together, releasing one final wave of heat. He felt his core lessening, all the power he had gathered poured into the completed bridge. The funnel of shadow dissipated into the air.

When it was done, Velixar collapsed, panting. His mind swam and his vision wavered. And the pain, the pain ! He sat back on his calves and took a few deep breaths to steady himself. Though it was indeed frightening to wield that much godlike power, now that it was gone, he missed it terribly. When he felt mostly normal again, he looked upon his creation. A sturdy earthen bridge now spanned the gap between the cliffs, seven hundred feet long, twenty feet wide, and at least fifteen feet thick at its thinnest section. Stray granules of dirt skimmed across the top and dropped over the side, raining on the furious river below. He glanced at his hands. There were no cracks there any longer. His skin was smooth and flawless.

“I did it,” he said, in awe of himself.

“Indeed you did, High Prophet,” said Karak.

The deity was beside him once again, holding out his hand. Velixar took it, allowing Karak to assist him in standing. He turned around, gazing with a painful sort of pride at the soldiers gathered behind him. Eyes were opened wide, jaws hung agape, hands were pressed to chests. Even Chief Shen seemed overcome. Velixar wanted to laugh at them, to strut before them and proclaim them in the presence of two gods, not one, but he stayed his tongue. That path leads to blasphemy.

The army crossed. The earthen bridge groaned and creaked beneath the feet of four thousand soldiers and a hundred horses, but it remained stable. They gathered on the grass-covered granite of the opposite bank, a collection of men too exhausted to continue on, yet too overcome by the powerful forces that guided them to do anything but continue.

It was only when the feet of the last soldier left the bridge that Velixar and Karak crossed. Deity and prophet walked side by side, and Velixar’s delight in his accomplishments began to leave him. Karak still looked like a shell of himself, and there was a sort of frustration in his stare that was disturbing to see.

“You are not a god,” Karak said, breaking the silence between them.

“I know, my Lord,” said Velixar, and he felt a chill at the reminder of how in tune his god was to his own private thoughts.

“You best remember. The demon you swallowed is but a parasite, siphoning the power of others more deserving. You will never be as strong as a true child of the heavens.”

“I will do my best, my Lord. Though the draw of such power is. . tempting.”

Karak nodded. “I imagine it would be. But simply remember this-when my soul recaptures its former glory, when I become the deity I was before my brother and I arrived on this world, you will witness feats that will drop you to your knees. You must keep your head, High Prophet, for when that happens I want you by my side. Although you will never truly be a god, what you accomplished this day proves you are worthy of something much greater than what simple humanity can offer you. Is this something you desire?”

“Yes, my Lord. Very much so.”

“Good.”